


100 ways to say 'I love you'

by asamandra



Series: Prompt lists [8]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 100+ mini fics, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fluff, M/M, some rare pairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 18,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: A collection of mini-fics with my favorite archer :D





	1. “Pull over.  Let me drive for awhile.” - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

“Okay,” Clint snapped. “That’s enough.” 

Bucky looked at him for a moment and frowned. “What?” 

“Pull over,” Clint said and gestured at the steering wheel. “Let me drive for awhile.” 

“What? No,” Bucky said and shook his head. 

“You just yawned for the sixth time in a row,” Clint said. 

“What? Are you counting?” Bucky asked, but he actually pulled over and parked the car. 

“Six times!” Clint said. “You drive for…” he looked at his watch, “for five hours non-stop and you slept only three hours.” He turned to face him now. “I can drive, too, you know.” 

“I… know,” Bucky said but he cast his eyes down too fast. 

“Wait,” Clint said, his eyes comically wide. “You don’t trust me to drive!” 

“What? No…” Bucky licked his lips. “No, that’s… that’s not true. I trust you.” 

“But? What’s the problem?” Clint folded his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t have a problem,” Bucky said and now Clint saw that the tips of his ears turned red. 

“Yeah? Then I can drive now?” Clint asked provocatively. 

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then licked his lips once more. “It’s…” 

“What? What’s your problem?” Clint snapped and then he cocked his head. “And you know, now that I think about it, whenever we have to drive somewhere, you insist on driving.” 

“That’s not true,” Bucky tried to defend himself. 

“Yeah? When was the last time you let me drive?” Clint asked. 

Bucky blushed violently. “Uhm… Kate’s birthday party, two years ago.” Clint glared at him and then he remembered, that was the day where they almost had an accident with a truck. 

“Is that your problem? The almost accident?” Clint blurted. 

“No?” Bucky said and when Clint cocked his head again, he said, “No.” 

“Tell me. Now.” Clint demanded. 

“It’s…” he scratched the back of his neck. “You’re… you’re driving too fast. All the time.” 

“I… what?” 

“You’re always driving too fast and…” He sighed. “Your driving style makes me nauseous.” 

“What?” Clint stared at him disbelievingly. 

“Listen, when I learned driving the cars weren’t that fast and you… you’re always speeding and…” he sighed. “My stomach churns.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

“What? You asked and… that’s it,” Bucky said, but he blushed once again. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Clint asked now, his voice gentle and quiet. 

“I… thought you’d think I’m… I don’t know… boring?” 

“God, Bucky,” Clint said, a smile on his lip but he leaned over, turned Bucky’s face with his hand and closed the distance to kiss him. “I always thought you’d think I’m lame when I drive slowly.” 

Bucky stared at him disbelievingly, grinned, and kissed him again. “We’re two idiots,” he said. 

“No, you’re an idiot. I’m a skilled driver with lots of experience and training,” Clint grinned. “And now, chop chop, get out and let me drive. And I promise to stay within the speed limit.”


	2. “It reminded me of you.” - Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

Melinda had called him and told him, that they were in New York for a few days. Clint’s face lit up immediately and he called Steve and told him that he wouldn’t be available for the next days unless a real catastrophe eventuates. And something like Ultron or Loki wasn’t a real catastrophe.

He drove home as fast as possible - only stopped at a grocery store to buy some food - and prepared the house for Phil’s arrival. 

And then he heard the key unlocking the front door and a familiar voice calling, “Honey, I’m home.” Two seconds later Clint had wrapped himself around his husband and kissed him repeatedly. 

“Oh.” Kiss. “My.” Kiss. “God.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Have.” Kiss. “No.” Kiss. “Idea.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Missed.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. 

“I think I get the idea,” Phil said laughingly when Clint let him have a tiny break to breathe. “I missed you, too.” 

He grabbed Phil’s hand and led him to the living room where he had set the table. He hurried to the kitchen and came back only a minute later with two plates. He had made steaks with croquettes and green beans, Phil’s favorite food. 

“Oh my god, you’re the best husband a man can wish for,” he smiled and tried the steak. He closed his eyes and chewed appreciatively. 

“You should be here more often,” Clint said but he smiled at Phil. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said and licked his lips. “But you know the job.” 

“I know,” Clint nodded. “But hey!” He blurted, rose and went back to his jacket, came back a moment later and brought a small beautifully wrapped gift. He sat down again and gave it to Clint. 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

“It’s called a gift,” Phil smiled. “You have to open it.” 

“You brought me a gift?” Clint looked up and Phil nodded. 

“Yeah. It’s nothing special, it just… ” he said. “It reminded me of you and… just open it.” 

Carefully to not destroy the wrapping paper Clint opened the gift and found a box inside. He opened it, stared, and then laughed. It was a mug and it read ‘I might look like I’m listening to you but in my head I’m doing archery.’ 

“Awesome,” Clint grinned broadly. “It’s perfect,” he said and looked up and saw Phil smile, too. 

“So you like it?” he asked and Clint rose, went to him and kissed him again. 

“Of course I like it. My new favorite mug,” he said. “How long can you stay?” 

Phil took a deep breath. “A week, unless…” 

“... there’s a catastrophe,” Clint finished his sentence. “Well, then we have to make the best of it. I have food in the fridge and all your favorite delivery services on speed dial, I have coffee and water and…” Clint grinned and waggled his brows, “a family size package of lube.” 

Phil’s lip twitched a bit and then he allowed himself a smirk. “Sounds like a good plan.” 

“I love you, babe,” Clint grinned. 

“I love you, too.”


	3. “No, no, it’s my treat.” - Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

“Well, well, well,” Clint slurred as soon as he saw the man coming up to him. “If that’s not my trustworthy lawyer.” He took his glass and raised it in his direction. 

“Clint,” Matt said and sighed. “Can I sit down?” 

“It’s a free country,” he said and gestured at the empty seats at the bar beside him. “And as long as the friendly barkeeper over there has no objections you can sit wherever you want.” 

“Clint, come on,” Matt said. He sat down, folded his cane and placed it on the bar before he ordered a beer. He waited till the barkeeper brought it and then turned to Clint. “We both knew that it was almost impossible with Jeri Hogarth as our opponent.” 

“If you say so,” Clint mumbled and emptied his glass. He waved at the barkeeper to refill it. 

“I had no idea that your wife could afford Hogarth,” Matt said and took a sip from his bottle. 

“ _Ex_ -wife,” Clint snorted. “And she can’t. One of her friends from high school knows Hogarth and… yadda yadda yadda.” 

“Please tell me it’s not Jessica Jones,” Matt said and Clint looked at him, a brow raised. 

“You know her?” 

“We… had the pleasure,” Matt sighed. Clint snorted. 

“The way you say it, it wasn’t a pleasure,” he said. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Matt admitted. “She can beat you up without even getting in a sweat. And she always wants to beat you up.” 

“Oh,” Clint said. He took a deep breath and then emptied his glass again. They both were quiet for a long moment, just sat beside each other and drank. 

“Will you manage?” Matt asked after a while. 

“I… uh… I found an apartment in Bed-Stuy and…” He said. “And… she asked for a transfer to the west-coast, so… I don’t have to see her too often.” 

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Matt sighed. 

“You know,” Clint turned to him now and gestured with his glass, “If I’m honest with myself it was my fault.” 

“Clint, it definitely was your fault,” Matt snorted now. “You shouldn’t have cheated on her and you can be glad Bobbi didn’t rip of your balls.” 

“To have an open relationship was her idea,” Clint said. “And when I do the same thing she does she throws a tantrum?” 

“You fucked your boss,” Matt shrugged. “That’s… a little different, I guess.” 

“Can we not talk about that?” he asked and waved at the barkeeper to refill the glass, but Matt shook his head. 

“No, you had enough,” he said. “Let’s get you in a bed and tomorrow we can talk, okay?” 

“Wanna get in my pants, Murdock?” Clint grinned and waggled his brows. Matt snorted again and rolled his eyes. 

“Not in your current condition,” he said. Clint rose, swayed, stumbled against Matt and fumbled for his wallet. Matt put his hand on Clint’s.

“No, no, it’s my treat,” he said and gave the barkeeper a wad of cash. And when Clint raised a brow, he said, “Next time you can invite me.” 

“Next time?” Clint asked with a smile. “That’s a date, Murdock.”


	4. “Come here.  Let me fix it.” - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

“Come here, let me fix it,” Clint said when he heard Tony curse and throw things in the bin beside his workbench.

“Fuck this shit!” Tony cursed again and kicked the bin. 

“Hey,” Clint said gently and hunkered down beside him, took his hand. 

“You can’t fix this shit! It’s broken and…” Tony started but Clint shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “Not this thing.” Clint pointed at the whatever it was in the bin. 

“What…” Tony started but Clint put a finger over his lips and shut him up. He rose, took Tony’s hand and pulled him up, too. And when he stood he just wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close to his body and just held him. Tony was stiff as a poker for a moment but then he put his own hands on Clint’s waist and let his head drop on his shoulder. Clint stroked his back and just held him. 

It took some time but slowly the tension subsided and Tony relaxed. 

“Better?” Clint asked when he was sure that he was relaxed and he could feel him nod against his shoulder. “Okay, wanna talk about it?” 

“The new StarkPhone is due in four weeks, it’s already announced and we have thousands of preorders. But we have a problem with the board and my so called experts can’t fix it,” he said. “And now I have to do it myself.” 

“No, honey” Clint said and shook his head. “No, you don’t. Your people are good and they have still a few weeks to fix it. You don’t have to do everything yourself.” 

“But…” Tony started but Clint interrupted him again.

“Nope,” he said. “You’re just a human and even you need a break and we’re going to take that break now.” 

“Okay,” Tony breathed. “Starbucks?” 

“Sure,” Clint smiled and moved back a bit, leaned in and kissed Tony. “Let’s go.”

He took Tony’s hand again, pulled a bit and smiled when Tony followed him out of his workshop. 

“Hey, babe,” Tony said and turned to look at him.

“Yes, honey?” 

“Don’t spread it around that I’m just a human.” 

“Won’t do that.” 

“Love you, babe.” 

“Love you, too.”


	5. “Have a good day at work.” - Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

It was one of these mornings. One of these days. 

Phil woke up ten minutes before his alarm clock went off and he glared at it for a very long moment. But then he sighed and sat up. He hadn’t slept too well and his back hurt a bit. Clint snored slightly behind him, his cushion clutched and the blanket wrapped around him. He had a day off and could sleep in. 

Phil sneaked to the bathroom, peed and then sneaked out of the bedroom, his clothes in his hand. He put on his jogging gear and left the house to go for his run. Half an hour later it started to rain and Phil cursed slightly but when a car drove through a puddle beside the curb he was not only wet, he was soaked to the skin. 

“Idiot!” He called after him. Usually he managed to keep his composure but not today. Silently cursing he jogged back home where he saw the neighbor’s cat sitting on his porch and eating one of the fish from his garden pond. He threw his shoe and the cat ran off but the fish was dead. 

“Fuck!” he cursed again. He had paid lots of money for the damn fishes and the damn cat always ate them. 

Grumbling he entered the house where he discovered that he forgot to switch on the coffee make. And so he stood - still sogging wet - in the kitchen to put water and ground coffee into the machine, leaving a puddle of water on the tiles where he slipped when he wanted to leave the room and hit his knee against the door jamb. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he hissed and hobbled up the stairs and into the bathroom, turned on the water in the shower and undressed. But when he stepped into the tub the water was still ice cold. Phil startled, jumped and hit his head against the wall. 

“Dammit!” he cursed. He had turned on the wrong handle. Muttering under his breath he turned on the warm water and finally managed to shower and get warm again. He dressed, shaved, cut himself, undressed and put on a new shirt without blood stains and went to the kitchen, where he found Clint sitting at the table, two mugs in front of him. 

“Morning,” he said and pressed the mug with coffee with sugar and milk in Phil’s hand. He smiled and took his own mug to drink. Phil took a sip and it was perfect. Hot and sweet and strgong, just the way he loved it. Clint put his mug down, came over to him, straightened his tie and leaned in to kiss him, slow and gentle and full of passion. And Phil couldn’t help himself, he just smiled and kissed Clint again before he put on his jacket and went to the door. 

“Have a good day at work,” he said. “I love you.”


	6. “I dreamt about you last night.” - Clint Barton/Loki

“I dreamt about you last night,” Clint whispered and turned his head to look at the man who lay beside him. 

“You did?” Loki asked and turned around to lie on his side. 

Clint nodded. A small smirk crept on Loki’s face and he raised a brow. 

“Was it a good dream?” He asked and then his smirk broadened. “Or was it a… how do you call it… a wet dream?” 

Clint was quiet for a long while. “Neither,” he said then. 

Loki sat up, his face earnest in an instant. “Tell me,” he said. 

“You know what I dreamt about,” Clint said. He didn’t look at Loki right now but he could feel his eyes on him. It was the scepter, the way he controlled him. 

“I told you that I’m sorry,” Loki said quietly. “I… I don’t know what I can do…” 

“Nothing,” Clint sighed. They had had this discussion a few times before. “It’s just… it still comes up, you know.” 

He turned onto his back and looked at the ceiling. 

“What’s wrong, my love,” Loki asked and reached over to caress Clint’s cheek. 

“Am I?” Clint asked and looked at Loki again. 

“Are you what?” Loki seemed confused and stopped caressing him. 

“Your love. Am I? Or is this just…” 

“Just?” Loki asked carefully and licked his lips. 

“You know what I mean,” Clint huffed. “Is this…” he gestured between the two of them, “Is this me or still the influence of the scepter?” 

Loki stared at him disbelievingly. After all, he still managed to surprise the trickster sometimes. 

“I told you the scepter is destroyed and its influence completely gone,” he said. 

“But… how do I know?” Clint asked. Loki sat up, folded his knees and wrapped his arms around them. 

“I gave you my word to never lie to you again,” he said and now, when he saw the hurt in his face, Clint felt like an ass. 

“I know,” Clint said and sat up, too. He folded his legs tailor like and looked at the man opposite of him. “I know that and I knew what I got myself into when… when we started this,” he sighed. “But when I have these dreams…” 

“What do you want me to do?” Loki asked quietly and Clint shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t dare to look up. 

Loki took a deep breath and slid over to him, folded his legs over Clint’s and wrapped his arms around him. He put his hand on the back of Clint’s head and guided it to his shoulder, caressed it and kissed his temple. 

“I promised you, Clint, no, I gave you my word that I would never hurt you again and I mean it. I wish I could help you with the nightmares but they are just that, nightmares,” he whispered. “You’re such an amazing man, Clint, you could forgive me everything I did to you and… I hate it that you still have to suffer. But you can believe me that I will never hurt you ever again.” He stroked Clint’s head and kissed his cheek before he added, “And I will make everyone suffer who hurts you because I love you so much.” 

“I know,” Clint said. “I love you, too.”


	7. “Take my seat.” - Clint Barton/Peter Parker

Peter had a crush. It was awful. He thought no one knew it but - honestly - everyone knew it. Well, everyone but one person: Clint, the guy he crushed on. 

Clint was in his sophomore year when Peter started to study journalism at the same college. And Peter met him because he bumped into him in the cafeteria. The plate on his tray started to fall and Clint caught it midair and gave it back to him with a smile. 

All his friends said it was creepy but Peter had started to find out everything he could about Clint and he learned that he was in the circus when he was a teenager. Peter was in awe. Whenever he had a chance he tried to talk to him but he never managed more than a hushed “Hi!” Clint always smiled at him but he never bothered to talk to him. 

Nevertheless, Peter had a crush. 

But Peter was sometimes clumsy as fuck. And when he broke his leg while skateboarding he got a cast and crutches. That’s how he ended in a bus packed with people on his way back to his dorm. Everyone was busy staring into their phones and no one noticed the guy with the crutches who could barely stand when the bus moved and swayed. And people shoved him around and it was horrible. 

“Hey, Parker,” a voice beside him said. He looked down and saw… Clint Barton. He sat there, a book in his hand and smiled. But then he saw the crutches, saw the cast and rose. “Here, take my seat,” he said. Peter blushed violently but sat down thankfully. Clint put the book back in his rucksack and nodded at the cast. 

“What happened?” 

“I… uh…” For a moment he thought about constructing a story but then he just shrugged. “Apparently I’m too dumb to skateboard.” 

Clint looked at it for a second, then laughed. “Don’t worry, things like that happen,” he grinned. “You have no idea how often I fell from that damn horse back in my time in the circus,” he said then. “I broke my ankle at least twice, one time my ribs and one time my clavicle.” 

“Oh…” Peter said, his eyes wide as saucers. “The circus?” he knew that Clint was a carnie but he couldn’t let him know that. 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “The Amazing Hawkeye at your service.” He saluted sloppily. “I tried this act, you know, shooting arrows from a horseback. The problem was, I couldn’t even ride and I had to stand on the damn horse.” 

“That sounds… dangerous,” he said and blushed when he thought about Clint on a horseback, his chest bare and sweat glistening on it, a bow in his hand and shooting arrows. 

“That’s why I decided to quit,” Clint shrugged. “I… uh… have to get off here,” he said then. Peter looked and saw that he had to get off, too. 

He rose and hobbled behind Clint to the exit. Clint held out his hand and took Peter’s rucksack. “Here, let me help you.” 

Together they walked back to the campus and Clint carried his rucksack the whole way. “Where do you live?” he asked and Peter pointed at his dorm. “Hey, I live there, too,” Clint smiled. 

Of course Peter knew that, he had seen him go in or out a few times. They went to the elevator and entered the car together. “Which floor?” 

“Uhm… the seventh,” Peter said and Clint pressed the button. He accompanied him to his room, still carrying the rucksack. “What… uh… what do you think about coffee?” Peter blurted when he had opened his door and Clint wanted to go already. He stopped and looked at him, his head cocked. 

“I like coffee,” he said then. 

“I mean… would you… uhm… do you think… uh…” Peter stammered. Clint scrutinized him for a long moment, then smiled. 

“I’d love to go for a coffee with you,” he said, took a pen out of his rucksack, wrote his phone number on a sheet of paper and gave it to Peter. “Call me.” 

Peter waited in the doorway till the doors of the elevator closed behind Clint before he went in his room and whooped with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make it clear... it's Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker here!! Tom Holland's Peter Parker is a kid and... that would be creepy.


	8. “I saved a piece for you.” - Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov & Phil Coulson

“Fuck you, nasty fuckers!” Clint cursed.

“Radio discipline,” Coulson said over the comms and folded his arms over his chest in the surveillance van. 

“Widow needs help,” Clint said and Coulson could see him leave his position. Natasha was in the gardens and fought against the results of an experiment gone awry. Hundreds of mutated creatures ran through the garden of the institute and tried to escape. And they were not nice, they tried to kill Natasha since she entered it. 

“I don’t need help,” Nat said the next moment. 

“What are you doing, Hawkeye?” Sitwell blurted when he saw him jump from one of the roofs to the next. 

“What do you think?” Clint answered. “I’m gonna help my partner.” 

“I don’t need help,” Natasha repeated. 

“Bullshit!” Clint gave back and slid along a ladder down to the ground. 

“Radio discipline,” Coulson said again. “And Hawkeye, why are you leaving your position?” 

“You heard me,” Clint hissed and Natasha sighed.

“I don’t need help!” 

“Too late,” Clint said and an arrow killed the mutated dog who jumped at her. But then Clint threw the bow away and pulled out his guns, the creatures were too close for it to be effective. 

“Do you have ammo?” Nat asked and Clint took two clips and threw it in her direction. 

“See, I knew you needed me,” he grinned and Coulson sighed in the van.

“Radio discipline,” he said again. 

“Come on, Eagle one,” Clint said, “Don’t get a knot in your panty.” 

“Radio discipline,” was everything Coulson said but Clint couldn’t stop grinning. He loved to tease their handler just too much. 

“Widow, behind you,” Clint warned when an ostrich with long fangs tried to bite her but she had seen it already and cut off it’s head with one of her long daggers. 

It whirled through the air and landed in front of one of the wolf-creatures and the beast ate it. 

“Aww,” Clint whined, ducked out ot the reach of another dog-mutant. “I wanted the head.” 

“What do you want with an ostrich head?” Nat asked and shot two geese with claws behind Clint.

“Stuff it and hang it over Eagle one’s desk,” he grinned and rolled over his shoulder to duck out of the reach of a goat who spat fire. 

“Radio discipline,” Coulson said. And then he added, “And I don’t need a dead ostrich over my desk.” 

“And it wouldn’t match up with all the Captain America stuff in his office.” 

“Radio discipline,” Coulson sighed. 

They managed to finish the fight halfway professional but when they walked back to the surveillance van, Nat took Clint’s arm.

“Here,” she said. “I saved a piece for you.” 

“Hu?” Clint said and looked at her and Natasha held a bloody piece in her hand, the head of another ostrich. He looked at it and then started to laugh. “Hey, Eagle one. It seems as if you would get your new decoration.” 

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose in the van and sighed once more.

“Radio discipline.”


	9. “I’m sorry for your loss.” - Clint Barton/Loki

He liked cemeteries in the evening. Not many people were there anymore. With a sigh Clint took the flowers and walked along the lanes till he saw the headstone he looked for. Philip J. Coulson. He went to the grave, sat down beside it and put the flowers down. 

“We fought against aliens today,” he said to the headstone. “They looked a bit like the Daleks from Doctor Who.” He smiled. “I know how much you liked the show.” 

He remembered Coulson and Sitwell talking about the stupid show so many times, making references and all that. 

“Stark called ‘Exterminate’ all the time,” Clint told the headstone and chuckled. “It made Steve furious and the two yelled at each other after we won.” 

He folded his legs under his body and looked at his hands. 

“You could’ve stopped them,” he said. “But Jenkins, our new liaison… he’s… he’s young, you know,” Clint sighed. “He’s good, no doubt, but… he’s not you.” 

Clint wiped his face and rose. He smiled a sad smile. “I’ll leave you now, see you next week.” 

With a last glance at the headstone he walked back to his car when he sensed a movement not far away. Clint was alarmed immediately and reached for his gun. 

“Don’t,” a voice said and Clint’s blood went icy. He remembered the voice immediately. “I won’t harm you, Agent Barton.” 

“Come out,” Clint snarled and a moment later Loki came around a big headstone and into his sight. He wore a black suit and held his hands so Clint could see that he had no weapon. But Loki didn’t need a weapon.

“What do you want?” Clint snapped. He didn’t lower his gun when Loki walked to one of the benches they had there and sat down. He gestured at the seat beside him with his head but Clint only snorted. 

“I’ve seen you, Agent Barton” he said and when Clint frowned he gestured at Phil’s grave. “And I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“It’s your fault!” He snarled. “You killed him and now you’re sitting here and tell me that you’re sorry?” 

“It wasn’t… I didn’t mean to,” Loki said and looked at his hands. He took a deep breath and then at Clint. “But you weren’t the only one controlled by the damn scepter,” he added quietly. “I wasn’t myself and I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.” 

Clint was knocked out of his stride and he holstered his gun. He cocked his head. “You… you were controlled, too?” he asked and made a step in Loki’s direction. 

“I realized it when your green friend wiped Stark’s floor with me,” he sighed. “I… came around and you all were there and… and I realized what I had done.” he shook his head. Clint wiped his face and flopped down on the bench beside Loki. 

“Were you lovers?” he asked after a while and Clint frowned again. 

“What? Me and Phil? No,” he shook his head. “No, he… he got me out of jail when I hit rock bottom and he gave me a chance. He was a bit like a father figure,” he admitted. “And a really close friend.” 

“If I could make up for it,” Loki said and looked at Clint earnestly, “believe me, I would.” 

“It was…” Clint started, deliberated for a long moment but then he finished his sentence, “not your fault. It’s the scepter. It makes you do things and… I understand that.” 

Loki nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you do. And I’m sorry for that, too.” 

They were quiet for a while and then Clint turned to him. “I need a drink,” he said. “And you look like you need one as well.” 

“Is that an invitation?” Loki asked with a small smile and a raised brow. 

“Yes,” Clint said and rose. “Come on, I know a bar not far away from here.” And Loki rose, too, and followed him.


	10. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” - Clint Barton/Thor

Tony Stark’s parties were legendary. Everyone wanted to be invited but Pepper, Tony’s girlfriend, selected the guests very carefully. And so, when Natasha said that she was invited and wanted him to come along, he said yes. Reluctantly, but no one says no to a Stark party. He knew, he should be sitting on his desk, learning, but… it was a Stark party. 

He looked at the house in awe when Natasha stopped the car in front of it. Of course Stark didn’t live in a dorm like an ordinary student, no, he had bought - not even rented - a house outside of the campus. It was awesome. 

“Come on, don’t stare at the stuff, just enjoy the evening,” Natasha said. “Pepper and Tony really want to meet you.” 

“O… okay,” Clint said and nodded. Together they went in and Pepper hugged Natasha as soon as she spotted her. They shared a few courses and were good friends since freshman year. 

“And that’s Clint?” she said and hugged him, too. “Nat told me so much about you.” 

“She did?” Clint asked and Pepper nodded. 

“Yes, she… oh, hey! Thor!” Pepper waved at someone. “Nat, Clint, that’s Thor,” Pepper introduced a big, blond guy with a beard and a ponytail. He came over, a broad, warm smile on his lips. “He’s an exchange student from Norway. He moved here two weeks ago” 

“Hej,” Thor said and shook their hands. 

“Hej,” Clint said, too, and then, with a grin, he added, “Hva skjer?” 

Thor’s brows hit his hairline. “Snakker du norsk?” He asked disbelievingly and Clint shook his head. 

“Only a few words,” he laughed. “Enough to impress people,” he said then and scratched the back of his neck. Thor laughed, too, and patted his shoulder. They both didn’t see Nat and Pepper share a glance and fistbump behind their backs. 

“I heard Tony has a good vodka in his bar,” Thor said and Clint nodded. 

“That… sounds good,” he said.

***

Clint wasn’t sure if it was very late or very early. Little bit of both probably. He lay on a sunchair on the sundeck, but he shivered and rubbed his bare arms.

“Here,” Thor said. “Take my jacket, it is cold outside.” 

“But then you’ll feel cold,” Clint said and looked at the man beside him. His face lit up and he laughed, while shrugging out of his jacket. 

“I am from Norway, remember?” he said. “Our summers are often colder than your springs here.” 

Clint put on the jacket - it was way too big - but he sighed contentedly. 

“You know that they planned it, right?” he asked then. Thor frowned. “For us to meet.” 

“Pepper and your friend?” 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “And do you know what? I’m not even angry.” 

“Me neither,” said Thor. He reached over the small gap between their deckchairs and took Clint’s hand. 

“So…,” Clint drawled, “we gonna meet again?” 

Thor moved, leaned over to him and kissed him with a smile. “Yes,” he said then. “Definitely.”


	11. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” - Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

It was awful. Steve had a crush. And as if that wasn’t bad enough it had to be the star of the college’s archery team, Clint Barton. Two years ago Clint strolled into the administrative office and told them he wanted to study here and that he needed a scholarship. They had laughed at him. Then he had showed them his skills with his bow and when he left he had his scholarship. And in only a few months the college’s archery team went from an also-ran to the most successful team in the whole country. And Clint was cute as fuck.

All his friends told him to talk to Clint. After all, they were together in Applied Economics and they usually sat together. Steve remembered the first time Clint came in - a little late - and asked him if the seat beside him was taken. Steve had looked up and stopped dead in his tracks. But somehow he managed to nod and Clint sat down before Professor Coulson could say something. 

Steve was smitten. Clint was even cuter up close. And he was a nice and funny guy, too. But he always hung out with a gorgeous redhead and he was pretty sure they were together. And whenever he sat beside him in class he felt guilty for lusting after Clint. 

“I’m pretty sure Natasha likes girls,” Maria had said. But Steve had just glared at her and ignored it. The way these two acted around each other, no, they had to be together. 

And now he stood in front of the door to Clint’s room, his jacket in his hand and debated with himself if he should knock or just leave it lying in front of the door. Yesterday, when they were in class, it had started to hail and the temperatures dropped in a few minutes. When he left his room Steve wore only a Henley and it was warm but then the storm came and it was pretty cold after class. Steve rubbed his arms when he was about to leave the building but then he got stopped by a voice behind him. 

“Fuck,” Clint said and grimaced. “I wanted to squeeze in another trainings unit.” 

“I wanted to get back to my dorm without freezing to death,” Steve muttered and Clint turned to look at him, scrutinized him and then shrugged out of his leather jacket. 

“Here, take my jacket,” he said and held it out for Steve. 

“What? I can’t take your jacket. You’ll need it,” he said and gestured at the bad weather outside. “It’s pretty cold outside.” 

Clint pressed the leather jacket in Steve’s hand, smirked, opened his gym bag and pulled out the archery team jacket and put it on. 

“Take it,” he said again and nodded at the leather jacket in Steve’s hand. 

Steve had stared at it for a long moment but the alternative was to walk back to his dorm wearing only a thin Henley. 

“Thank you,” he smiled and Clint winked. He ripped a piece of paper out of one of his notebooks scribbled on it and gave it to Steve. 

“Here, my phone number and my address. You can bring it back tomorrow,,” he had said and when Steve gaped he winked and hurried out into the storm and ran to the gym. 

Steve still stared at the door and he just raised his hand to knock when the door went open and Clint stood there, a bag over his shoulder. 

“Oh, hey!” he started to smile and Steve blushed violently.

“I… uh… I didn’t want to disturb you, but I have your jacket,” he said and held it out for him. Clint’s smile broadened and he took it and threw it into his room. It landed on a heap on the floor. 

“Thanks,” Clint said.

“But… uh… you’re about to go and… I… uh… don’t want to….” he stammered but Clint interrupted him,

“Hey, Steve.” 

“Yeah?” He stopped. 

“Wanna get some coffee with me?” Clint asked and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks again. 

“Uh… what… uh… what about your girlfriend?” Very eloquent, Rogers! He thought and scolded himself.

“Girlfriend?” Clint frowned. “Oh, you mean Nat? She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends.” 

“But… but I thought…” 

“She’s not my type and I’m not hers,” Clint winked again and once more Steve blushed like a lovesick teenager. “So, coffee?” 

Steve smiled. “I’d love to!”


	12. “Sorry I’m late.” - Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

Clint found him - who would’ve guessed - in a dumpster. Foggy had called him and told him that Matt didn’t appear to an appointment with a client. He had thought that Matt was with him, but Matt had left an hour ago to go to said appointment. 

“I’ll search for him,” Clint had said, had grabbed his bow and left his apartment. 

Two blocks away he found Matt’s suit behind a dumpster and blood on the streets and with a curse he followed it.

It took him ten minutes to find the trail of unconscious and injured guys in black military clothes. 

“What the fuck…” Clint muttered. 

One of the guys just came around and Clint knelt down beside him. 

“Who are you?” he snarled but the man answered in some Asian language Clint couldn’t understand… or even identify. 

“Fuck,” he cursed again, knocked the guy out, grabbed his bow and followed the trail of unconscious bad guys. “What the fuck did you do, Matt,” he muttered. 

But suddenly there were no more bad guys but more blood on the ground. 

“You better not be dead,” he grumbled. “Or I’m going to kill you!” 

And older woman told him, that the Devil from Hell’s kitchen got chased by lots of guys into a side alley. Clint thanked her, cursed again and ran to the side alley.

There were still some of the bad guys on their feet, and they whirled around when they sensed him but there was no trace of Matt. It took him five minutes and sixteen arrows and the evil guys were taken out, most of them still alive. Clint breathed hard, bled from a gash over his eye and a cut on his right arm but he had won. 

He looked around and furrowed his brows. Matt had to be here somewhere. There was no way out of the alley otherwise. And then his eyes fell on the dumpster and Clint saw a few drops of blood on it. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” 

He opened the lid of it and saw an unconscious guy in a red suit lying between lots of trash. Clint paled immediately.

“Matt!” he blurted and felt his pulse. When he could feel his heart still beating he sighed relieved. “Thank god,” he muttered. But then he pulled him out of the trash and gently patted his cheek. “Matt, come on,” he said nervously. 

“Ouch!” the other man groaned after a moment and Clint sat back on his haunches and thanked whatever deity was guarding Matt. 

“You missed your appointment,” he grinned, when Matt sat up. “And you stink.” 

“They were too many,” Matt said, took off his mask and rubbed a sore spot on the back of his head. “I wanted to hide to take them out when they were searching for me but…” he blushed violently. “I hit my head when the lid fell down.” 

Clint looked at him disbelievingly for a few moments but then he couldn’t hold back the laugh. 

Matt muttered something unintelligible but he managed to get up and he tried to wipe away some waste from his suit. 

“Here,” Clint said and gave him the business suit he had found earlier. “I guess you should wear this one to your appointment. Foggy said he’s waiting with the client.” 

“Fuck!” Matt yelped and faster than Superman he was out of his Daredevil-suit and in his business suit. 

“Who are those guys,” Clint said and nodded with his head at the men lying around in the alley. 

“Sorry, I’m late, babe,” Matt said quickly. “I’ll explain later. Can you call your guys to collect them? Love you!” And with that he vanished around the corner. 

Clint cocked his head, raised a brow and looked around. “Sure,” he said. “No problem,” he added then. “Love you, too.”


	13. "You can have half." - Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Clint was known for picking up strays. Cats, dogs, recruits for Shield, he had picked up a lot of them. One time he even brought a komodo dragon. The last stray, though, was a young Russian assassin known as Black Widow. He had offered her a place to stay and a new life and she had accepted. 

And as soon as she got her clearance they started to work together, they became Strike Team Delta with Coulson as their handler. A year later they were the best Strike Team within Shield. And there was lots of gossip about them. Not when they were around but they heard about it. Of course they heard about it. They were the best. 

Clint sat in the cafeteria with a few other agents. It was pizza Thursday and he had just fetched his food when Natasha came in, looked around, saw him and came to him. She glared at the agent opposite of Clint and the young man took his tray, rose and fled the table. She sat down and the other agents swallowed nervously. Nat had a reputation and her presence made them nervous. 

“What’s up?” Clint asked when he had washed down his mouthful of pizza with coffee. Nat winced. She always scolded him for his eating habits. But Clint usually grinned and ate what he wanted nevertheless. 

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” she said. “A team is in trouble and needs back-up.” 

“Ten minutes?” Clint asked and Nat shrugged.

“And we have to wait for Coulson, so… yes, ten minutes.” 

Clint looked at his food and then at Nat. 

“Have you eaten?” he asked. He knew that she sometimes forgot to eat and she usually was cranky when she was hungry. 

“No,” she said. “We don’t have time.” She looked at the queue in front of the service counter and Clint turned to look as well. And then he sighed. He cut off a slice of pizza, took it in his hand and shoved the plate over the table to Natasha. 

“Here, you can have half,” he said and took a bite from his slice. And when he chewed he realized that it was really quiet at their table. Everyone stared at them, Agent Stuart even with open mouth, his fork with food in the air. 

“What?” Clint asked and all of them mumbled something unintelligible and continued to eat, staring concentrated at their food. Natasha looked at him, grinned and took a slice of the pizza and started to eat. They both knew the rumor mill would work overtime as soon as they left. Clint grinned, too, winked and took a bite of his pizza.


	14. “Can I have this dance?” - Clint Barton/Bruce Banner

“I don’t know why I should go there,” Bruce whined and folded his arms over his chest. “I mean, it’s the prom and I…” he stopped and closed his mouth with an audible click.

“Because, Brucie-bear, everyone is there,” Tony said. 

“Yeah? But everyone else has a date,” Bruce retorted. 

“Maybe you should’ve asked _someone_ ,” Tony shrugged. He looked at Pepper who shook her head. 

“Yeah! Sure!” Bruce snorted, the sarcasm almost palpable. “Because _someone_ would’ve said yes.” 

“You will never know because you didn’t ask _someone_ ,” Tony said and Pepper rolled her eyes. 

“Can we stop calling Clint ‘someone’?” She asked now. 

“Right,” Tony nodded, grabbed the tuxedo again and threw it at Bruce. “And now move your lazy ass and get dressed.” 

“But I don’t wanna go,” Bruce said and Tony slapped his arm. 

“And I don’t care. All of us are there and it’s our last evening together. Soon everyone goes to college or god knows where and then…” he threw his arms in the air in frustration. Bruce glared at him, grumbled something in his not existing beard but at least he put on the tuxedo Tony had brought for him. 

And an hour later he sat at a table, glared in his glass and watched all his friends dance. Tony and Pepper, Steve and Peggy, Phil and Maria, Thor and Jane, Loki and Darcy, Bucky and Natasha, Clint and Bobbi.

“Yeah, what an awesome evening!” he grumbled. But just as he wanted to leave he heard a voice behind himself. 

“Can I have this dance?” 

He whirled around because he knew the voice. Clint! For as long as he could remember he had a crush on him and he never dared to believe to even have a chance and now he asked him if he wanted to dance with him?

“What?” Bruce blurted and Clint held his hand out for him. 

“I would like to dance with you, Bruce,” Clint said and smiled. 

“But… you and… and Bobbi?” He couldn’t hold back the question.

“What is with me and Bobbi?” Clint asked. He looked at the dancefloor and saw her dancing with Scott right now. 

“I thought…” Bruce said and closed his mouth when he saw the smirk on his lips. 

“So,” Clint cocked his head. “Do you want to dance with me now?” 

“I… I’m a bad dancer,” he admitted. 

“That’s okay,” Clint said. “Because people say I’m a good dancer.” He made a step in Bruce’s direction and whispered in his ear. “I can lead you, if you want me to.” 

Clint’s voice went direct to Bruce’s cock and he shifted uncomfortable but when Clint held out his hand again, he took it. 

“Why?” Bruce asked when they got in position and Clint smiled at him. He was really a good dancer and in an instant they moved in synchronicity with the music and with each other. “Why now?”

“It’s my last chance.”


	15. “I made your favourite.” - Clint Barton/Loki

Clint sat at his desk and let his head drop onto the books in front of it. He hated quantum mechanics. But the finals were in four days and he needed it. 

“Ouw,” he moaned and tore his hair. 

Loki, his room mate (and secret lover because his brother Thor didn’t need to know), looked up from his laptop, cocked his head and pursed his lips.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and Clint rose his head an inch or two only to let it drop down again. 

“I hate my life,” Clint mumbled into the book on the desk. 

“Not long ago a certain someone said that maths is the best choice because everything is logical,” Loki said. “Maybe you know him.” 

“Fuck off,” Clint muttered. He had said it when Loki had complained about medieval English lyric. 

Loki sighed, put his laptop onto his bed and left the room they shared. Clint looked after him, sighed as well and sat up again only to stare in his books again. He mumbled something about regretting life choices when a plate appeared in front of him and a glass beside it. 

“Cookies and milk?” Clint looked up, his eyes wide. 

“I made your favorites,” Loki smiled and Clint’s eyes went even wider. “Pecan white chocolate.” 

“You made them yourself?” 

“Of course,” Loki pulled his chair over to Clint’s desk, sat down and folded his legs. “I can bake. And cook.” 

“Why did you make cookies?” Clint asked. “And why didn’t you tell me?” 

Loki chuckled and leaned forward to snatch one of the cookies. “A, because you seemed stressed out the last few days and b, because I wanted to surprise you.” 

Clint took one of them, dipped it into the milk and took a bite and then he couldn’t suppress the moan. “Oh god, they are so awesome.” 

“Right?” Loki grinned now and took a bite of the cookie he had grabbed. They were really awesome. Maybe one day he would tell Clint that he had called his brother Barney and asked for their mom’s recipe. 

“I needed that,” Clint said after two more cookies. He leaned back, stroked his belly and sighed contently. 

Loki, who still sat beside him quietly, rose and held out his hand. “Come with me,” he said. Clint raised a brow but after a moment he took the hand and Loki pulled him up, led him to his own bed and sat him down. And Loki sat down beside him and put his arm around him. 

“I… need to learn,” Clint tried to complain but Loki shut him with a kiss. 

“You need a break,” he murmured and pushed him back onto the cushions. With a grin he leaned over him and opened his fly. “And I’m gonna help you relax.” 

Clint opened his mouth, closed it and then he smiled. “I love the way you think.”


	16. “It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.” - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

“Tony!” Clint grabbed his hands and tried to hold them but Tony trashed around too hard. “Tony, come on, Tony!” he called. 

Tony writhed in his arms and tried to get away, but Clint held him. 

“Come on, babe, wake up! Please, Tony!” 

“Noooo!” With a scream Tony finally snapped awake, flailed with his arms and tried to get away from Clint. 

He let go of Tony, let him have his space and a few seconds later - still breathing hard - he realized that he was at home, in his own bed. 

“Fuck,” he cursed and wiped his face. 

“Hey,” Clint smiled now at him. “You with me again?” 

“What… what happened?” 

“Nightmare, I guess,” Clint shrugged and watched him. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“FRIDAY, light, thirty percent,” Tony said. And then he gasped. “Shit, Clint!” He saw the bruise on Clint’s face. 

“It’s nothing, babe,” Clint said and slid over to him to wrap his arms around him. “I’m okay.” 

“Clint, I hurt you,” Tony whispered. But Clint just put a hand on the back of his head and held him, stroked his hair. Tony dropped his head against Clint’s shoulder. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said and kissed his temple. “It was just a nightmare.” 

“It was… Steve… he… we fought and… and I lay on the floor and couldn’t move because my suit was damaged and he used his shield to destroy my ARC reactor, only that it was still in my chest and not just in the suit and…” he said and shivered in Clint’s arms. 

“Shh,” Clint whispered again. “He won’t hurt you. I will not let him hurt you ever again.” 

Tony looked up and had tears in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry that I let him get to you,” Clint said. “If I…” 

“No,” Tony shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t know what he would do.” 

“Tony,” Clint said quietly and stroked his head again. “I’m here for you now. I’m always here for you.” 

“I love you, Clint, I love you so much,” he whispered. 

“I know, and I love you, too.”


	17. “Here, drink this.  You’ll feel better.” - Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

“Here, drink this,” Clint said and pressed a mug in Steve’s hand. “You’ll feel better.” 

Steve glared at the mug, then at Clint. “Is that alcohol?” 

“No,” Clint sighed. “It’s tea.” 

“Oh,” Steve looked at the mug again then took a sip. “Ugh, that’s awful,” he grimaced and stared disgustedly at the mug.

“Drink it! It will help to get you sober again,” Clint sighed. 

“I had no idea that you even know what tea is,” he muttered. 

“Hey!” Clint said. “I wasn’t raised by wolves.” 

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, glared in the mug, then started to giggle violently. “How old is it?” 

“What?” Clint frowned, “The tea? Nat visits me regularly and she drinks tea, remember?” 

Steve giggled again and leaned back in his chair. But then he almost slid down and only thanks to Clint’s fast reflexes he didn’t fall on his face. 

“Don’t you think you should go to bed?” Clint asked now and Steve tried to wrap his arms around him. 

“Not without you,” he slurred. 

“Don’t worry, I’m coming with you,” Clint sighed and tried to help him up but Steve was heavy when he was drunk. 

“I loooove you,” Steve smiled and tried to kiss Clint’s lips but missed them by a mile and kissed his eye instead. 

“I know,” Clint said with a grunt when he tried to lift Steve up. He managed to place his arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. “And now come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

“Yeah?” Steve grinned. Clint would never let him drink Asgardian mead again. Never. He would fight Thor and Loki and all the Asgardians if they even suggested to let Steve have mead again. 

“Yeah,” Clint said. He dragged him along the corridor to their bedroom and managed to open the door, but when he wanted to help Steve to sit on the bed they both stumbled and fell and now Steve lay on top of him and smirked. 

“Hey, pretty,” he said and tried to prop on his arms but they gave out and he landed on Clint again. 

“Ouch,” he groaned. With his legs he managed to roll Steve on his back. “You’re heavy, babe.” 

“Hey,” Steve grinned again at him. “You got me in your bed, pretty.” 

“Yes, and now you have to sleep,” Clint said. He turned to remove Steve’s boots. 

“Did I tell you that I love you?” Steve slurred and yawned. A moment later he snored. Clint leaned back and took a deep breath. Tomorrow he would punch Thor for letting Steve drink mead. But now… he shrugged out of his clothes, lay down beside Steve and put an arm around him, kissed his temple and pulled the blanket over the two of them. 

“I love you, too, babe.”


	18. “Can I hold your hand?” - Clint Barton/Stephen Strange

It was a bad idea. But Natasha insisted. And no one who was right in their mind contradicted Natasha. It was not advisable. 

That’s why Clint sat here, in this restaurant, wearing a suit and a tie and waited for a man he didn’t know. But Nat knew him and she said he should meet him. Clint looked at his watch again and huffed frustrated. It was the last time he agreed to go on a blind date with someone. The guy was not only a doctor, he was also late and Clint hated to wait. He looked like someone who got stood up. 

“Clint Barton?” he suddenly heard a voice beside him and almost startled. He looked up and saw a tall, lean man with goatee and graying temples. 

“Yeah, hi,” he said and rose and he saw that the man scrutinized him. 

“I’m Stephen Strange,” he said with a small smile. Nat had told him he was a doctor but he didn’t introduce himself as Dr Strange, a good sign in his book. Clint smiled and gestured at the empty chair opposite of himself. 

“So… uhm…” Clint started. He was not good at this and to start a conversation with someone he never met was… not his strong suit, so to speak. “How do you know Natasha?” 

“Her girlfriend was my patient,” Strange said. “You know Annabell?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Clint smiled. He’s been the one who introduced them. “So, I guess I have to thank you for saving one of my friends, too.” 

“No need to,” Strange said. But when he reached for the caraffee to pour some water in his glass Clint saw lots of scars. And then he realized that Strange saw him stare at them and Clint blushed violently. 

“It was a car accident,” he said. “And the end of my career as neurosurgeon.” 

“Oh, that sucks,” Clint winced. But Strange shook his head and a tiny smile appeared on his face. 

“No need to,” he said. “It was… freeing in a way. I had time to travel and, believe me, I’ve traveled the whole world. Suddenly I had the time to do things I could never do before.” He smiled again and really seemed relaxed. 

“Oh, that sounds awesome,” Clint said. 

“Yes,” Strange said. “I wrote a book and - don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to brag - since then I have the money and the time to do what I like.” 

“Wow,” Clint said and nodded slowly. He just wanted to say more but they got interrupted by the waiter who took their order and then Strange looked at him and cocked his head.

“So, Nat told me you’re a pro athlete,” he said. “But she was a bit cryptic about it.” 

“Yeah, um… I’m an archer,” Clint said. 

“An archer?” Strange’s eyes went wide but he truly seemed curious. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I won a few tournaments and… well… it pays the bills.” And after a moment he added, “And I love it.” 

“That’s good,” Strange smiled. “To do something you love, that’s… that’s good.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said. They were quiet when the waiter brought their food and then Clint looked up. “Okay, where have you been? You said you traveled the world… where have you been?” 

“Oh, my first destination was Brazil. I went to Rio de Janeiro because I wanted to see the Sugarloaf mountain and…” 

They talked a lot and Clint really liked him. When Natasha told him that she set him up with a neurosurgeon he had a bit expected that he was an arrogant bastard but he was a really laid back guy who knew a lot of funny anecdotes. It was more than entertaining to listen to his stories and Clint had laughed a lot and they were the last guests who left the restaurant. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Strange - no, Stephen! - asked when they walked to their cars and Clint nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. His grip was firm despite the scars and his hands were warm and dry and he had butterflies in his stomach, when Stephen stroked his hand with his thumb while walking. 

“Can we meet again?” Clint asked when they arrived Stephen’s car. 

“I’d like that,” Stephen said. “I talked a lot about my travels but I want to hear more about your tournaments. After all, it’s the first time I met a five times olympic gold medallist.” 

Clint started to blush… and grinned. Yeah, he definitely liked him.


	19. “You can borrow mine.” - Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

“F… utz!” Steve cursed. He looked at his torn shirt with a frown on his face. They were at a local box-club where Steve loved to train and today Clint accompanied him. But the building the box-club was in was old and in dire need of a renovation.

“What happened?” Clint asked. He came over to him and saw the problem. The shirt was torn in two halves. 

“Fuck,” Clint said. 

Steve threw a disapproving glance in his direction but then he just removed the pieces of fabric around his torso. 

“I can’t go home naked from the waist up,” he said and looked in his locker. “And I don’t even have a jacket here.” 

“How did that happen, by the way?” Clint asked and Steve blushed. 

“See that nail?” he asked and pointed at the thing in the doorframe. 

“Sure,” Clint said and raised a brow. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, I didn’t see it,” he said and his ears burned in shame. 

“Aww, babe,” Clint said with a smirk. “But I have a spare shirt. You can borrow it if you want.” He reached in his bag and pulled out a shirt and held it out for him. 

“It won’t fit,” Steve said. 

“It’s better than to go half naked,” he shrugged and Steve took the shirt. Surprisingly it wasn’t purple, it was blue and had a red and white stripe on it. He pulled it over his head and managed to move it over his torso. It was really tight and Steve was sure if he would take a deep breath it would burst at the seams. But Clint was right, it was better than to walk back to the tower naked. 

“What?” he said when he saw that Clint scrutinized him… and licked his lips appreciatively. 

“What?” Clint, too, asked. 

“You… uh… you stare,” he said and now it was Clint who blushed. 

“It’s…” he scratched the back of his neck. “... tight.” 

“Yes, it is,” Steve nodded. Clint blushed even more. 

“It’s… uh… hot,” he admitted then and now Steve couldn’t hold back a tiny smirk. 

“So, you like what you see?” he asked and Clint’s lip twitched before he nodded.

“Yeah, definitely,” he said. 

Steve cocked his head and went to him, put a finger under his chin and moved his head so that he looked up at him. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Clint’s for a moment and when he opened his mouth, he kissed him. He touched his tongue with his own and put an arm around his waist. Clint held onto him, kissed him back, explored his mouth and let his hands roam over Steve’s back. 

“I… uhm…” Steve stopped and breathed hard. “I think we should continue this at home, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, his lips swollen from kissing him. “Good idea. Let’s go.” 

“On your six.”


	20. "Look both ways." - Clint Barton/Thor

“Would you like to see Asgard?” Thor asked one day when they lay in bed. He had his arm around Clint’s shoulder and Clint snuggled against his chest. Slowly he stroked Clint’s hair when he realized that Clint has never seen Asgard before. 

Clint moved in his arms and looked at him. 

“Really?” He asked. 

“Yes, really,” Thor said. “I would like you to see my home, but only if you want to.” 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded with a smile. “I’d like that.” 

“You will love it,” Thor smiled and stroked his hair again. “It is beautiful.”

***

Clint had a small bag over his shoulder the next day. Thor said, they would stay a few days and he had no idea what he would need and so he just threw a few things in a rucksack and met Thor behind the Avengers Headquarter. Tony had banished him from calling the Bifrost on the lawn. He had said, the next time there’s a pattern on the lawn Thor himself would have to fix it.

“Heimdall, open the Bifrost,” he said and put his arm around Clint’s waist.

A moment later a dazzling light appeared around them and they got sucked up in the air and through the space and only moments later they stood in a golden room and an earnest man in golden armor scrutinized them. 

“Welcome to Asgard,” he said. His voice was deep and low and he just removed a sword from a weird device in the middle of the room and the room stopped spinning. Clint held his side, his head was spinning and he was a little nauseous. But when he heard the man come closer he rose to greet him. 

“Odin’s beard!” Thor blurted and stared at Clint open-mouthed. And Heimdall’s eyes widened. 

“What?” Clint asked, “what’s wrong?” 

“Your eyes,” Thor said. 

Clint touched his face, the corner of his eyes. He didn’t feel different. 

“What’s with my eyes?” He asked, his voice shaking a bit. His eyes were his best feature. When something would happen to them…

“They are golden, Clint,” Thor said and Clint’s head snapped back to the huge man in the golden armor. His eyes were golden, too. 

“What?” he breathed.

“Heimdall?” Thor asked and the man nodded. He made a step in Clint’s direction but he shrank back. 

“I will not hurt you,” he said and Clint looked from him to Thor and back. Something really, really weird just happened here. And he definitely didn’t want anyone mess with his eyes!

Heimdall reached out with both hands and placed them on each side of his head, his thumbs very close to his eyes and then he looked in Clint’s eyes. And suddenly he could see everything. He could see stars and planets and moons and the space and people, lots and lots of people, he could see his friends, his brother and his wife and people on planets he’s never been to.

“Oh my god!” he blurted and gasped and made a step back to break the connection, but it didn’t stop. He still saw galaxies and nebulas and black holes and planets and stars and suns. “What did you do to me!” He yelped. 

“What did you do?” Thor snapped the same moment and made a threatening step in Heimdall's direction. 

“I had to confirm my suspicion,” Heimdall said. “You saw how his eyes changed when he was close to me?” 

“What did you do?” Thor asked again when Clint groaned and fell onto his knees. 

Heimdall ignored him, went to Clint again and placed his hands on his face again. “Look in my eyes,” he said and Clint obeyed. “And now breathe with me.” 

It took a few minutes but eventually Clint relaxed. He didn’t stop looking in the weird, golden eyes in front of him and it calmed him. 

“What happened?” He panted when the impressions faded and he could see Thor and Heimdall again. 

“To put it in a nutshell,” Heimdall said, “You are my son.” 

“What?” Both, Clint and Thor blurted the same moment. 

“You are half Asgardian,” Heimdall repeated. “And you are my son.” 

“But...how?” Clint asked and ran his hands through his hair. “I mean, I knew that my eyes are better than others but…” 

“I met a Midgardian woman years ago and we… we were in love,” Heimdall admitted. “I guess it was your mother.” 

“But… no offence… you’re black and I’m not!” 

Heimdall chuckled. “I am the son of nine mothers and no father,” he said. “Everything is possible.” 

“Holy cow!” He reached for Thor’s hand and looked at his lover. “I… uh… I… I need a drink,” he said then and Thor nodded. 

“We will talk later,” Heimdall said. “You will take time to cope.” 

Clint squeezed Thor’s hand a bit. 

“And Clinton,” Heimdall smiled, “Look both ways!” 

“I… uh… I will,” he said and for the first time it made sense.


	21. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.” - Clint Barton/Sif

“Lorelei is secured,” Phil said. “You can bring her back and…” 

“Actually, Son of Coul, I wanted to ask a favor from you,” Sif said and turned back from her prisoner and to Phil. 

“A favor?” he asked, a brow raised. He really didn’t expect that. 

“Yes,” Sif said. “Can you keep her for a few more hours? I want to see a friend.” 

“A friend?” Phil asked. “Thor?” 

“No,” Sif shook her head. “One of his comrades. Clint.” 

“You know Clint?” Phil asked. He couldn’t hold back a frown. 

“Yes,” Sif nodded. “Thor had invited his friends to Asgard a few months ago and Clint said if I come to Midgard I should come visit him.” 

“Okay,” Phil nodded. “We… uh… we can fly you to New York. He’s there with Thor and the rest of the team.” 

Sif scrutinized him for a long moment and Phil felt a little uncomfortable. 

“I’ll call him,” he said and Sif smiled.

***

When May parked the bus Clint was already waiting for them. He leaned against a black SHIELD SUV, wearing his purple shades and had his arms folded over his chest. Of course Fitzsimmons, Sky and May left the Bus together with him and Sif. They all were curious about her and Clint.

Sif only said that she had met him during a feast on Asgard but she refused to tell details. Phil accompanied her to the SUV and not because he was curious. He just needed to know when Sif would be back to collect her prisoner. 

“Hey,” Clint started to grin when she was close. Sif stopped, her lips pressed tight together. 

“You wanted to come back,” Sif said and folded her arms over her chest, too. “You lied.” 

“Technically…” Clint started, “It wasn’t my fault. Too much to do here and my boss refused to give me a few days off.” He glanced at Phil. 

“You let me wait for six months,” Sif said. Phil was confused. He looked from Sif to Clint and back. He had no idea what the hell was happening. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Clint said and Sif made a step in his direction. Phil was pretty sure that she would punch him now and he was ready to help him when she reached out, grabbed Clint at his shirt and pulled him up. But then Phil could only stare open-mouthed because… Sif kissed Clint. 

“When did that happen?” he blurted. Clint and Sif? That was something he really hadn’t expected. Sure, he knew that Clint had a thing for strong women but Sif? Holy mother of god!

“I told you I met her when Thor took all of us to Asgard,” Clint said now with a smug smirk and Phil just rolled his eyes. 

“How long can you keep Lorelei, Son of Coul?” Sif turned to ask him now and Phil just shrugged. 

“A few more hours shouldn’t be a problem,” he said and Sif smiled and turned back to Clint. 

“You wanted to show me your world,” she said. “And something called pizza.”

Phil rolled his eyes again. 

“Oh, I know a great place,” Clint grinned. “And you should see Stark Tower. It’s awesome.” 

“I… uh… I will take care that Lorelei can’t escape. And…” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “... have fun.” 

He hurried back to the bus, herded his team in and went to his office. He needed to call Natasha. And Thor. And Steve. Someone had to have a wary eye on them. Otherwise… he sighed again.


	22. “Try some.” - Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

“What the futz is that?” Clint said and looked up from his plate. He knew that Matt was blind but he also knew the other man knew that he glared at him. 

“It’s octopus,” Matt said with a gentle smile. Clint stared at him for a few more moments and then he looked back at his plate. 

“It’s moving,” he said. “It’s still alive.” 

“It’s not alive,” Matt sighed. “It’s only the arms. It’s dead. You can eat it.” 

“It’s moving,” Clint repeated and used his chopsticks to shove a few bits of the wriggling octopus parts around. One of them seemed to try to attach itself to the chopstick and Clint put his hand over his mouth. 

“It’s a Korean specialty,” Matt said and cocked his head. “And it was your idea to expand your horizons, to try something else rather than pizza every day.” 

“Yeah, uh… I thought we would eat dead and cooked food,” Clint said slowly. Matt was right. It was his idea but he had had hot and delicious asian food in his mind when Matt had suggested this small restaurant in Koreatown and not wriggling octopus arms. 

Matt smirked at him, took his chopsticks, found one of the arms of the octopus and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed and then grinned at Clint. 

“Oh god,” Clint groaned. “I’m not gonna kiss you for at least a week.” 

“It’s good,” Matt said. “Try some.” 

“I… I… I think I’ll stick with the kimchi,” he said after looking at the moving tentacles again. It looked disgusting. 

“Chicken?” Matt grinned now and Clint glared again. 

“It’s… it’s not that… it’s just…” he sighed and shoved the tentacles away from his kimchi. “It’s alive,” he repeated.

“The chef cut the tentacles off of the body. It’s definitely dead,” Matt said. “It’s just the nerves.” 

“I’m not sure if it’s reassuring to know that,” Clint muttered. 

“Hey,” Matt said gently now. “If you don’t want to eat it then don’t eat it. I just… it was just an idea, okay? Next time you pick the restaurant or at least how far you’re willing to go.” 

Clint took a deep breath and glared at him. “I hate you,” he muttered, picked a piece of the wriggling tentacle, dipped it in sesame oil and then put it in his mouth. 

It was awful and Clint had to concentrate not to puke onto the table. The piece of the tentacle moved around in his mouth, it tasted like dead octopus and when he tried to chew it, it slipped away. So he decided to swallow it as a whole but the damn tentacle attached itself to the roof of his mouth and he started to cough, tried to get rid of it and coughed even more. 

“Dammit,” Matt was on him in an instant and slapped his back, then apparently remembered the sucker cup thing and snapped, “Open your mouth.” 

The Korean chef came over and rambled something Clint couldn’t understand but Matt grabbed the tentacle and plucked it out of his mouth. Clint sighed relieved and Matt took a deep breath and turned around to the chef. 

“The check, please,” he said and sat down beside Clint when the man nodded and hurried away. “Okay, I’ll admit it, too exotic,” he smiled and took Clint’s hand. “Pizza?” 

“Best idea today,” Clint smiled and Matt grinned. 

“You don’t know what I’ve planned tonight,” he said. And Clint blushed.


	23. “One more chapter.” - Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

Matt was supposed to sleep. He had to be in court the next morning and he had to cross-question the key witness and he had to be well rested. It was probably the most important case in his career and he wanted to win it. 

But he couldn’t sleep because someone sat in the bed beside him and read. 

“Goddammit, Clint!” he snapped and turned around in the bed to glare at him. “I need to sleep!” 

“Then sleep,” Clint said after a moment and turned around a page. 

“I can’t sleep because you’re still reading!” He said. He knew Clint stared at him right now, he could feel his eyes on him. 

“You’re not gonna tell me the light is bothering you?” Clint asked now and Matt rolled his eyes. 

“No, but the way you turn the pages, the way you sigh every time when you do it and…” Matt stopped for a moment. “... you chuckle!” 

“It’s a Terry Pratchett book. You try to read a Terry Pratchett book without at least a tiny chuckle every now and then,” he said. 

“Which one?” Matt asked and scolded himself the next moment. 

“Good omens,” Clint said and Matt understood. The book was awesome, he loved it. 

“Nevertheless,” he said then, “I have to sleep and you need to stop reading. I have to be in court tomorrow morning and I need my sleep.” 

“Aww, baby,” Clint whined. “Just one more chapter!” 

“No, I need to sleep,” Matt said and Clint sighed. 

“But it’s so good and…” he started but Matt propped himself up on his elbow to look at Clint for a second and then he just pulled the blanket away, moved over to Clint and kissed his navel. Clint yelped in surprise. He pulled down Clint’s boxers and kissed his way down to Clint’s dick, and when he gasped he took him in. 

“Oh gawd,” Clint groaned when he let his tongue swirl over the head and Matt could hear the book drop to the floor. Inwardly he grinned but he continued to tease Clint’s cock, dipped the tip of his tongue in the slit and took his balls in his hand. He massaged them gently while he started to suck Clint’s dick, let his tongue trail over the vein on the underside and used all his skills to drive him nuts. And Clint moaned aloud and let his hands run through Matt’s hair. 

He knew Clint, he knew what he liked and so he didn’t take much time and Clint grabbed his hair to warn him but he kept him in his mouth, sucked and then Clint came. Matt swallowed and licked and sucked all of it away while Clint groaned and dropped back on the cushion. 

Matt licked his lips and smirked when he finally let go of him and sat up to grin at his boyfriend. 

“Dammit,” Clint panted, “that was unfair, babe,” he added. 

“Yeah?” Matt said, still grinning. “Can we go to sleep now?” 

“Aww, you won’t let me return the favor?” He asked. 

“Not now,” Matt said. “Tomorrow morning, when I’m too nervous and need a little… reassurance.” Clint leaned over to kiss him.

“I love you, babe.”


	24. "Watch your step." - Clint Barton/Thor

“Watch your step!” Thor growed and looked at Clint, his lips pressed tight together. 

One of the things in a relationship - Clint had always thought - was to be allowed to say more than other people were allowed to, to _do_ more than other people. But apparently he had overstepped a mark. 

“Watch your step,” Thor had growled and glared at _him_ , Clint. 

But it… well… it slipped. 

During the snap Clint had lost everyone he had thought. His brother, his sister-in-law, his niece and his nephews, they all were gone… but then Thor came back and for a while Clint was happy. 

But Thor had to leave again, he had to build a new home for his people... and Clint? Clint had lost it. He disappeared, too, and well… became someone else. Something else. 

Until Natasha found him. Until Bruce and the Raccoon dragged him to ‘New Asgard’. Until he saw Thor again. 

He was fall-down drunk, could barely stand, he lived with an… an insect and a stone in a Hawaiian shirt in a house…. and he was… well… _chubby_ from all the beer he drank. And Clint just couldn’t, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut because somehow it was cute, too. But Thor had just growled at him and glared. 

“He’s not wrong, mate,” the stone-thing - Korg - said and shrugged and now Thor glared over his shoulder at him. “But I guess I will… uh…” It gestured at the screen and the game controller and Thor turned back to Clint.

“We need you,” Clint said and Thor glared some more. “I need you,” he added quietly and cast his eyes down for a moment. 

And then he almost tripped, when Thor just grabbed him and smooshed Clint’s face in his belly with a laugh. Clint was so shocked for a moment he almost fell down. Thor reached out, grabbed him, held him and suddenly they were really close. 

“Watch your step,” he murmured and Clint swallowed. And Thor closed the distance to kiss him, slow and sensual and with so much passion, it took Clint’s breath away. 

“I missed you,” he said when they broke the kiss and Clint licked his lips and nodded.

“I missed you, too.” 

“Can we go back now?” Rocket interrupted the moment. “We have a mission, remember?” 

Both, Clint and Thor, looked at each other, grinned and turned to Rocket. 

“Shut up, Rabbit!”


	25. “Don’t worry about me.” - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

“The fuck!” Bucky yelled when he jogged over the tarmac to the waiting quinjet. Clint just wanted to go in when he heard Bucky’s voice and turned around. He put his bag and his bowcase down and cocked his head. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, a wrinkle between his eyes. 

“You leave without a word?” Bucky growled when he was closer. 

“It’s just a supervising mission,” Clint sighed and nodded with his head at a bunch of junior agents, waiting inside of the jet. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be safe and sound behind the lines.” 

Bucky scrutinized him for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re impossible, Barton,” he said. And then he just leaned in and kissed him, in front of all the junior agents. A few of them - the braver ones - wolf-whistled but most of them stared with wide eyes. 

“Nothing to see here,” Bucky growled when they parted and Clint grinned cheekily. 

“See you in a few,” he said, grabbed his stuff, put it away and went to the co-pilot’s seat. “Let’s see if McNeill here crash-lands us and…” The hatch went shut and Bucky couldn’t hear the rest of it. He just smiled and shook his head. 

“Dork,” he muttered and went back to the HQ. In a few days Clint would be back and Hill had said the mission was a cakewalk. So, nothing to worry about.

***

Nothing, really nothing, was easy when Clint was involved. The cakewalk turned to a clusterfuck in an instant and the team of junior agents got captured, including Clint.

Bucky grumbled under his breath the whole flight, cursed Clint, cursed the inept junior agents and Tony, who didn’t fly fast enough, he cursed the evil guys and even the weather for being foggy. 

As soon as Tony opened the hatch Bucky left the jet, his rifle shouldered and two machine guns in his hands. 

“.... bastards… fuckers… gut them... their momma… cut them…” he muttered when Tony turned around in his seat.

“Hey, Terminator, wait!!” he called after him but Bucky was barely visible in the woods already and Tony sighed. “Never again! Next time Rogers asks me for a favor he can kiss my ass.” 

He went to the back and put on his suit. But when he left the quinjet to follow Bucky he realized the guy was almost at the bunker, where the evil guys had their lair. 

“Damn you, Barnes,” Tony cursed and entered the building by foot. He followed him through the corridors and had to step over the bodies of dead guys. “Damn you, too, Rogers,” he muttered when he heard someone yelling. 

“... scared out of my mind! I thought you were dead!” Bucky screamed and gestured with his hands in front of Clint. Barton was still locked up in a cell, together with half of the junior agents. And he was injured. 

“Goddammit, Barnes,” Tony said and opened his suit. “Will you let him out already?” 

Bucky turned around and glared at him but he reached for the lock with his metal arm, pulled and had it in his hand only a moment later. He tore open the door and went in to grab Clint and had him in his arms the next moment. But when he winced he glared at him.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked.

“I’m okay,” Clint said.

“They tortured him,” one of the young agents said the same moment. 

“Goddammit,” Bucky growled. “I wish I could revive them only to kill them again. 

“I’m okay, Buck,” Clint said again. 

Tony opened the door to the second cell and the agents in there came out. 

“He’s a hero,” one of them said to Tony and he could see Bucky look over his shoulder. 

“Langley made a mistake, the evil guys could capture him and then everything went down the drain, sir. Agent Barton saved all of us and… he’s a hero.” 

Bucky scrutinized him for a long moment, then he nodded at him… and smiled. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said then. “All of you.” 

“Right,” Tony said and opened his suit. He nodded at the agents. “Quinjet is waiting outside. Let them have a moment to yell at each other.”

“You’re an asshole, Stark,” Bucky said, but he smiled and put his arm around Clint and kissed him. 

Tony grinned and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”


	26. “It looks good on you.” - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

Clint hated interviews. He really, really hated them wholeheartedly. But after their latest almost-destroying of a major city people wanted to know what happened and so the Avengers had to appear in a nationwide TV show.

He glared at his image in the mirror when Bucky entered the dressing room, flopped down in the armchair in the corner and grinned. They had tried to style his hair with lots of gel and hairspray and a makeup artist just applied eyeliner.

“You look good,” he said. Clint turned to glare at him and the makeup artist sighed audibly. She turned his head back to the mirror so that she could continue. 

“I look like an idiot,” he grouched and Bucky had to cover his mouth to hide the grin. 

“I like your hair,” he said when he regained his composure. 

“It’s not supposed to look like a fluffy futzball,” Clint grumbled. 

The makeup artist sighed again and sat back. 

“Mr. Barton, it’s the only thing we could do with that haircut,” she said. 

Clint glared at her. 

“Clint, baby,” Bucky said. “Believe me, you look good.” 

“You’re biased,” Clint muttered under his breath but Bucky heard him, he rose and went to him.

“Always,” he kissed his cheek and the makeup artist glared at him now. “Sorry,” he apologized to her. 

“I can’t go out there,” Clint suddenly whined and wanted to touch his face. 

“Mr. Barton! Please!” The woman scolded him and Clint let his hands drop down immediately. 

“But I look like an idiot! I can’t go out there like that!” 

“You look good and I love your hair,” Bucky reassured him. 

“Tell me, why could you get off cheaply?” Clint now asked and turned around, much to the chagrin of the makeup artist. 

“Because apparently I’m not presentable to the public,” Bucky said with a glance at his metal arm. “People still remember the Winter Soldier and…” he trailed off and shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint said now. Bucky looked up.

“What for?” he asked and frowned. He had no idea why Clint apologized now. 

“Because people still don’t know what an amazing man you are,” he said and something warm started to bloom in Bucky’s chest. He kissed his cheek again. 

“When this is over,” he whispered in his ear, “I promise to buy you pizza.” 

“Yeah?” Clint’s face lit up.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “And now go out and blow them away.” 

“Can I use a gun?” Clint asked but with a smile on his lips.

“No, only your words and your good looks,” he said and kissed him.

“I’ll do my best.”


	27. “You might like this.” - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

Tony lay on his cot in his workshop, his eyes closed. JARVIS had dimmed the light to only twenty percent. The music was off but the AI played ocean sounds quietly. It helped Tony when he had a headache and he really missed his Malibu house. The sounds of the ocean always soothed him. And he missed Clint. 

Tony sighed and turned to the side, stared at the worktables and his latest project. After Clint got shot on his latest mission he had started to build an armor for him that wouldn’t limit his movability. But now it lay on the table and he on the cot. His head hurt and every time he moved he felt nauseous. He closed his eyes again and tried to will the pain away. 

A tiny whooshing sound made him open his eyes again. He had no idea how long he lay here but someone had just entered the workshop and Tony hadn’t seen them coming. 

“Hey,” he heard a voice whisper and Tony blinked a few times. He tried to focus on the person but somehow he couldn’t. 

“Clint?” he asked and blinked some more. He smelled something sweet and tried to sit up. 

“No,” the voice said and a hand pressed him back onto the cot. “Stay. And yes, it’s me.” 

“Since… since when are you back?” Tony asked and Clint leaned down to him to kiss his forehead. 

“I don’t know, twenty minutes, give or take,” Clint murmured. “Took me a few minutes to make this,” he added and now Tony saw the mug in Clint’s hand. 

“What’s that?” he wanted to know and moved his head a bit. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he groaned and lay back again. 

“Careful, baby,” Clint whispered. “And that’s tea to help with your headache. And a few painkillers.” 

As gently as possible Clint helped Tony to raise his head a bit so he could take the pills and wash them down with the tea. 

“Uughh,” Tony groaned again but this time not from pain, this time it was a sound of disgust. “It tastes like horse piss.” 

Clint chuckled quietly. “I wonder how you know what horse piss tastes like,” he grinned and when Tony glared at him he sighed and added, “Bruce said I should give it to you, that it would help you.” 

“Bruce is a sadist,” Tony mumbled and lay back again. Clint smiled and kissed his forehead again. 

“How long were you working, Tony,” he asked and looked at the worktable. Tony shrugged, winced and shrugged again, this time more careful. 

“Few hours I think,” he said. 

“Two days and fourteen hours,” JARVIS chimed in and Clint’s head whirled around. 

“Tony,” he said. “You have to be more careful. What’s so important that…” 

“You,” Tony interrupted him. 

“Me?” Clint raised a brow. 

“You almost got shot a few weeks ago and this is an armor that doesn’t limit your movability. And I wanted it to be finished when you’re back and…” he stopped and cast his eyes down for a moment. “I thought you might like this.” 

“I do,” Clint said, a soft smile on his lips. “But promise me, next time I’m on a mission, you take care of yourself. Okay?” 

Tony nodded and winced again. But the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. The painkillers started to work. Or maybe it was the awful tea. 

“Promised,” he said and this time Clint kissed his lips, slow and gentle and sweet. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Clint said and then he started to remove his boots. “And now, move over. You need some rest and I’ll stay with you.” 

“I like that,” Tony whispered. And Clint kissed him again.


	28. “It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.” - Clint Barton/Scott Lang

The building looked like crap. Scoot looked up and down the facade and sighed. His parole officer apparently hated him and he got to know her only two days ago. But she said he could get an apartment in this building. A very young woman had shown him the apartment, had given him the keys and now he was here with his stuff. 

Luis - god bless him - had provided him with a couch but he had to leave before he could help him carry it upstairs. He had said that he know a guy who had told him something about a guy who had a few chairs and disappeared in his van. 

Of course the elevator in the crappy building didn’t work and his apartment was on the fifth floor. With another sigh Scott grabbed the armrest and started to drag it inside. He managed to drag it up the first flight and stopped heavily breathing when he heard a voice. 

“Oh, need a hand?” someone said behind him and Scott turned around. And then - literally - his jaw dropped and he stared at the man. He was probably the hottest guy Scott had seen in a while - and he had spent the last three years with hundreds of guys in prison. The man was tall, taller than him, blond hair, blue eyes and a disarming, slightly lopsided smile. And he had a body to die for. He was lean but had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and muscular legs in tight jeans. And his hands… his hands...

“Ahh… what?” he blurted and gaped at the man. 

“The couch,” he said. “It looks heavy.” 

“Oh… uhm… no, no, it’s not heavy,” Scott babbled. “I’m stronger than I look.” 

The man raised a brow and cocked his head and Scott felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He had just made a fool out if himself in front of this hottie. 

“Sure you are,” the man said and shrugged. “But I guess it would be easier to carry with a little help.” 

“Uhm… yeah… right,” Scott said and cursed himself. He sounded like a stupid idiot at the moment. 

“Okay,” the man said and went to the other side of the couch. He rolled up his sleeves and Scott’s mouth got dry. His arms were… perfect. 

“Ready?” the man asked and grabbed the armrest. 

“Uh… yes,” Scott said hastily and together they lifted the couch. “But we have to… I mean… my apartment is on the fifth floor.” 

“I know,” the man smiled again.

“You… you know?” Scott blurted and almost dropped the couch. 

“Sure,” the guy said and managed to shrug. “It’s my building.” 

“Oh…” 

The man’s smile broadened and Scott felt something flutter in his chest and the heat in his cheeks again. 

“Clint Barton,” the man introduced himself. “Call me Clint.” 

“Scot… Scott Lang,” Scott said, too, and the man smiled again.

“I know.” 

Together they managed to get the couch up the stairs and in the apartment they flopped down on it, heavily breathing. But they grinned at each other for a moment. 

“Thanks,” Scott said. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee but…” he gestured at the empty kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” Clint said. “I know a place. You pay.” 

Scott looked at him for a very long moment and then he smiled. 

“It’d be my pleasure,” he said. And when Clint smiled, too, his heart somersaulted in his chest. “Let’s go.”


	29. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

Bucky carefully opened the door to the apartment, looked in and when the coast was clear he sneaked in. 

“Clint?” he asked quietly but no one answered. He opened the door again, took the box and carried it in. Carefully he brought it to the bathroom beside the bedroom he shared with Clint. “Everything is alright, little one,” he whispered and patted the box, frowned and inwardly scolded himself. 

He took out his phone, looked at the screen but Clint left no message. And so he typed ‘Where are you?’

‘Gym,’ came back seven minutes later. 

‘Can you come home?’ he sent and put his phone down. He went to the bedroom, slipped out of his jeans and put on some sweatpants and just when he wanted to change his shirt he heard the entrance door slam shut. 

“Bucky?” Clint asked and he could hear the worry in his voice. 

“I’m up here,” he called and seconds later he heard him come up the stairs. 

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked, all out of breath. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Bucky said. “What makes you think that something happened?” 

“Your messages sounded so ominous,” Clint said. He furrowed his brows and looked around. 

“No, it’s…” Bucky said, then he went to Clint, put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him. “Everything is fine. But can you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” Clint nodded. “What is it?” He still wasn’t convinced that everything was okay, Bucky could see that. 

“Can you sit down, close your eyes and hold out your hands?” he asked. The wrinkle between Clint’s brows deepened and he folded his arms over his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing, babe, believe me,” Bucky said. “Could you just… just do it?” 

“If it’s a clown I swear to god, I…” Clint started but now Bucky couldn’t hold back the frown. 

“What?” He interrupted him. “No, why would I… I know you don’t like clowns. Why would I do something with a clown?” 

“Dunno,” Clint said. “My brother did once.” 

“Clint, babe,” Bucky said, went to him to kiss him again. “I’m not your brother.” 

Clint looked at him suspiciously for a few more moments before he nodded, sat down and held out his hands. 

“Close your eyes,” Bucky reminded him and he did. But he also sensed that he was more than uncomfortable with it and it warmed his heart that he trusted him so far, that he did what he asked him to do even if he was so uncomfortable. 

Bucky hurried back to the bathroom, opened the box and took out the content. He went to Clint and put it in his hands but he moved his own hands to make sure Clint wouldn’t drop it. 

“Oh my god,” he blurted and tore open his eyes when the puppy he held started to move. It licked Clint’s hands and he stared at it open-mouthed. “You got me a puppy?” 

“You always said you wanted a dog,” Bucky shrugged but he couldn’t wipe the happy smile off of his face. “It’s a girl.” 

“Ooohhhh,” Clint cooed and petted the small animal, a young yellow Labrador. “She’s cute! Does she have a name already?” 

“No, you pick one,” Bucky said and smiled. 

Clint looked at the small dog and deliberated for a moment and then he grinned, “How about Goldie?” 

“It’s your dog,” Bucky’s smile broadened when he saw his boyfriend petting the small animal, smiling happily at it. “And Goldie sounds good.” 

Clint put the dog down on the floor, rose, went to him and kissed him. “You’re the best, did I ever tell you that?” 

“Happy anniversary,” Bucky said and smiled. “Happy anniversary, babe.” 

“Aww, is that today?” Clint suddenly realized. “I don’t have a gift for you and…” 

“You don’t need to give me something,” he said. “You know that.” 

“God, Bucky, I love you so much,” Clint whispered and kissed him once more. 

“I love you, too, babe.”


	30. “I’ll wait.” - Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

“I…” Steve said, stopped, licked his lips, shifted nervously from one foot to the other and Clint saw, that he was on the verge to run away. “I’m not sure if I…” 

“Babe,” Clint said gently and took both his hands. “You can do it.” 

“No,” Steve shook his head and wanted to turn around but Clint held him. 

“Steve,” Clint said, his voice still gentle and soft. “You _can_ do it.” 

“No,” he said. “I… I think I can’t.” 

“You don’t have to do this alone, babe,” Clint said. “I’ll wait here, okay?” 

“But Clint, I…” 

“I’ll wait,” Clint repeated and squeezed Steve’s hand. “And honestly, what’s the worst that can happen?” 

“I… I don’t know,” Steve admitted but he was white like a sheet. “He… he could… maybe he will…” he managed to pale even more. 

Clint looked at him and then he couldn’t hold back the smile. He moved closer to Steve, wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned up to kiss him. And Steve responded. He opened his mouth and invited Clint in, touched his tongue with his own and pulled Clint closer to his body. 

Steve breathed hard when they parted and Clint could see that his pupils were dilated and he licked his lips. 

“Better?” Clint asked and Steve nodded slowly. 

“And you will wait right here, right?” he wanted to know. Clint nodded. 

“Right here,” Clint said and pointed at one of the chairs in the corridor. 

“Are you ready now, Mr. Rogers?” the doctor’s assistant, who had waited patiently behind them, asked now. Steve licked his lips again but eventually nodded. 

“You can do it,” Clint said with a smile.

Steve nodded again but then he took a deep breath and turned to follow the assistant. 

“Love you, babe,” Clint called after him and laughed when Steve flipped him off. “Who’d’ve guessed the brave Captain America is afraid of the dentist.”


	31. “Can I kiss you?” - Clint Barton/Loki Laufeyson

“Why do I have to be there?” Clint whined and looked at Tony. 

“Because you’re the protagonist today,” Tony said, smirked and went to him to straighten his tie. Clint looked at it, then turned to stare at his reflection in the mirror behind them. 

“I hate that,” he muttered. 

“It’s a Stark event in your honor and we can’t chicken out,” Tony said. “And by the way, you look good.” And with a grin he added, “Not as good as me, though, but good.” 

“Idiot,” Clint said. 

“Come on, lil bro,” Tony smirked and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

Together they went to the main floor of the house they shared since Tony found out that he had a half brother. At first he wasn’t overly excited but then Tony had brought him to Malibu and Clint got to know him and he really liked him. 

Hundreds of rich and super rich people were there and Tony dragged him around and introduced him to everyone. After all, Clint had inherited twenty percent of Stark Industries and Tony wanted him to enter into the company. 

“And these two are the Odinsons, Thor and Loki,” Tony introduced two huge men. One was a buff blonde with a wide, warm smile and the other one a black haired man with an earnest expression. “Business partners from Sweden.” 

“Pleasure,” Clint said. Thor beamed at him and squeezed his hand tightly while shaking it but this Loki guy only nodded. And winked.

“Come on, there are more people who want to get to know you,” Tony said and dragged him away to shake even more hands. 

He had no idea how many hands he had shaken but at some point he managed to sneak out into the garden. He sat down on a bench, closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Too many too boring people?” someone asked and Clint opened his eyes. He looked up and saw the black haired guy from Sweden on a bench not far away. 

“It’s not that,” Clint sighed. “It’s…” he sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. Loki rose and came over, sat down beside him. He looked at him and smiled. 

“Not your world?” he asked and Clint nodded. 

“Not really,” he admitted. “And why are you out here?” 

Loki shrugged. “I hate these events,” he said. “I prefer the company of interesting people.” 

“Ah,” Clint said and swallowed. Loki turned a bit, put his elbow on the backrest of the bench and put his chin on his hand. He had a really cute smile Clint had to admit. 

“Can I kiss you?” Loki asked out of the blue. Clint’s jaw dropped. 

“Excuse me?” he asked and stared at the man beside him disbelievingly. Did he really just ask him if he could kiss him?

“I really want to kiss you right now. I wanted to kiss you when your brother introduced you…” 

“Half brother,” Clint said automatically but Loki ignored it. 

“... and even more so right now. You have so soft looking lips and I want to know how you taste,” he continued. 

“I… uh… I…” Clint stammered and licked his lips nervously. Loki looked at them, looked up in Clint’s eyes and then - slowly and measured - he leaned in. And Clint didn’t move back. He opened his mouth a tiny bit and then Loki’s lips touched his. They were dry, a bit chapped but soft nevertheless. Loki’s tongue touched Clint’s, carefully and exploringly, and Loki’s hand landed on Clint’s arm. He tasted good, like wine and something exotic he couldn’t name right now. 

“That was nice,” Loki said when they broke the kiss to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded dumbfounded. He startled when Loki let his hand glide in his, Clint’s, jacket, came back with his phone and typed something. 

“If you want to continue this,” Loki whispered huskily, “call me.” 

“I… will do that.”


	32. “Just because.” - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

“Oh my god, Barton,” Tony coughed. He sat up in the comfy armchair and put his arms on his knees. “Are you serious?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Maria, who had overheard them talking, threw in. She and Natasha played Wizard’s Chess but everyone knew that she heard everything said inside of the common room. She always knew everything. 

“Guys,” Clint sighed and leaned back. “What’s your problem.” 

“Our problem, Clint, is that he’s a Slytherin,” said Bruce and Clint huffed in frustration. 

“He’s not a Slytherin, he’s…” Clint started but Tony interrupted him.

“The Sorting Hat sent him to Slytherin,” he said. “That means he’s a Slytherin.” 

“He’s an exchange student, Tony,” Natasha threw in. “He’s only here for the rest of the year.” 

“See?” Clint said and nodded in Nat’s direction. 

“He’s a Durmstrang! That’s even worse that Slytherin and you…” Tony started again. 

“I will not discuss that with you, Tony,” Clint said “You don’t even know him and you judge him? Don’t you think it’s a little… hypocritical?”

“Steve,” Tony turned to the blond boy opposite of him and cocked his head. “Tell him a Gryffindor can’t canoodle with a Slytherin!” 

“Clint,” Steve started, “Tony is…” Clint interrupted him.

“I will not discuss that with you,” he said again. He rose from his armchair and went to leave the common room. 

“Clint!” Steve rose, too, and went with him through the picture of the fat lady. 

“I will not stay and listen to that bullshit,” he snapped and Steve raised both hands. 

“I won’t stop you,” he said. “I know James, you know. We grew up together before his parents moved to Romania. He’s a good guy and I don’t understand why the Sorting Hat sent him to Slytherin. He should be here.” 

“So… you want to say you’re okay with… us?” Clint asked slowly and cocked his head. 

“I just want to know if this is some sort of game or… are you serious with him?” 

“I like Bucky,” Clint said, deliberately using his nickname. “I really do.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asked and then he folded his arms over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Clint said. Just like that. Just because,” he said. “Don’t worry, Steve. I won’t hurt your friend. Well, aside from…” 

“Aside from?” Steve furrowed his brows. 

“I heard he joined the Quidditch team,” Clint grinned. “I like him, Steve, but when we play against them…” his grin broadened. 

Steve nodded slowly. 

“Fair,” he said. And then he took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Tony.” 

“Thanks,” Clint smiled and went to the stairs. 

And Steve turned around, looked at the painting and said, “Caput Draconis.”


	33. "Drive safely" - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

“It’s just three days, Clint,” Bucky sighed and looked at his watch. “I’ll drive to Boston with Stevie, we’ll meet Professor Channing and speak with her students, go sightseeing and then come back.” 

“Yeah, but it’s too long,” Clint whined. He flopped down on their bed, onto the clothes Bucky had just picked to put them in his suitcase. Bucky turned back, some more clothes in his hand and sighed when he saw Clint lying in his clothes. 

“Clint,” Bucky sighed again. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Clint said and looked up at Bucky. He licked his lips and pouted. 

“It’s important, baby,” Bucky said and sat down beside him. “These students get the chance to learn about history first-hand and if I can help, then…” 

“But why do you have to go? Why not only Steve?” Clint whined again. “I mean… I don’t want to be rude or so… but…” 

“... I've been brainwashed most of the time?” Bucky tried a shot in the dark. Clint blushed a but but nodded. 

“We don’t talk about the war, baby, we talk about…” 

“... other boring stuff,” Clint sighed. 

“It’s not boring, it’s…” Bucky raised both his hands for a second, “it’s history and they are history students.” 

“But three days,” Clint rolled onto his side to look at Bucky. “Why can’t I come with you?” 

“Because the junior agents you trained are going to graduate in a few days and they need you here,” Bucky smiled and leaned down to kiss Clint gently. “Tell you what,” he said then, rose, removed the hoodie he wore and gave it to Clint. “I’ll leave this one here for you, okay?” 

Clint took the hoodie, pressed his face in it and inhaled the scent. It smelled like coffee, like fabric softener and something that was specifically Bucky. 

“Okay,” he murmured and lay back, still hugging the hoodie. Bucky sighed, a smile on his lips and leaned down to kiss him. But then he straddled Clint’s hips, grabbed his hands and pressed them onto the mattress above his head. Clint swallowed, looked up at him and Bucky’s smile turned into a lewd grin. 

“Guess we have a few more hours till we have to leave,” he whispered in Clint’s ear and Clint shuddered. 

Twenty-two minutes later they left the bedroom together. Clint wore Bucky’s hoodie and Bucky carried his suitcase. They both held hands the whole way to the elevator, in the elevator on the way down to the garage and on their way to the waiting car. Steve sat in the driver’s seat but when he saw them coming, he got out. 

“You’re late,” he said. 

“We were busy,” Bucky shrugged and Clint grinned when Steve blushed. 

Bucky threw his suitcase into the trunk and when Steve wanted to get behind the wheel again, he frowned. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked and Steve stopped. Clint pressed his hand over his mouth so Steve couldn’t see him grin. 

“I… uh… driving?” Steve said. But Bucky put on his murder-scowl, went to him to take the key out of his hand and shooed him away.

“Forget it,” he said. “I want to get there alive.” 

Muttering under his breath Steve went to the passenger’s door, opened it and sat down. Clint went to Bucky, who wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed him again.

“Only three days,” he whispered and Clint nodded. But then he stepped back and Bucky got in the car, too. 

“Drive safely.”

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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